The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1887-01-19
The TRAMP'S SACRIFICE.
BY j. l.. L.


Near sunset of an evening of the last
July, Wellington Seymour stood by his
front gate, resting himself after II hard
days labor in the harvest-field, by watch
ing the people who passed on the road.
They al bowed or spoke to- him; no man
in the town was more highly respected or
better known. He was its Supervisor, and
deacon of the church over the hill; he
owned an hundred acres of valuable land,
which he worked himself, and the pretty
frame house just behind him. His wife
was at this time sitting on the piazza, and
their only child, Winnie, was racing up
and down it, somewhat bosterous with the
high spirits of childhood. The family and
the help had eaten supper, and all were
enjoying Ill their own way the beautiful
summer hour between sunset and darkness.
Wellington Seymour was fortv-six years
old. His hands were hard with toll; for,
though rich and prosperous, he was one Of
those who deem manual labor a divinely
imposed duty. He was bronzed and sun
burned with exposure; and the trials and
duties of life, as well as its SORROWS, had
given a grave and thoughtful aspect to his
face. An observer would have added ten
years to his real age. The few people in
such a rural neghborhood as this who were
accustomed to study character by the fea-
lures had seen that there was something
more than gravity in Mr.. Seymour's face.
There was a restlessness about his eye.
Sometimes he started upon hearing an un-
familiar voice. While the fact had not be-
come subject of remark, il had certainly
been noticed by these few that Mr.. Sey-
mour did not often appear TO be at ease.
AS he continued to stand at mis- gate,
man passed by on foot who neither bowed
nor spoke TO him. He was a stranger
clothed in tat:ered and dusty garments.
He walked slowly past, using n long staff,
and appearing very much fatigued. His
hair aud beard were long and unkempt; his
face bore the unmistakable marks of dissi-
patton and excess. He was, in short, a
tramp; one of class which Mr.. Seymour
hated-or would have hated had his Chris
tan principles allowed such a feeling He
looked coldly at the man as he went by,
merely observing that he was tramp, with
out taking particular note of his face. He
did not see that the man stared hard mt him,
after he had turned his eyes from the I'M
pleasant object The man walked a rod
past The gate, and then suddenly wheeled
and came back. He stood right in front of
the farmer and leaned heavily on his staff.
Sir" he said, 81 am very tired and very
hungry. Will you feed me, and lodge me
to-ni9ht?"
"You look like a tramp" the farmer re-
piled. "You know the penalties you are
liable to suffer-"
Yes, know, the wayfarer cried. His
dark eyes snapped viciously, and there was
a ring to his voice that startled Mr.. Sey-
mour. Il am an outcast, an Ishmaelite-
not because L am vicious, but because / am
vicious and poor. The law makes it an
offense TO be poor, if you are bad. Perhaps
it is right; but I'm too much exhausted
10 tn11r o1.,,t 4
appeal TO you as a man to help fellow
man in distress. Twenty-f miles have /
walked to-day; nothing have / eaten since
noon. have been refused relief at half
dozen farm. houses, and whipped off from
wagons where | tried TO get rest for my
poor bruised feet. Welfare you heart
less, too?"
Those piercing black eyes were fixed on
the farmers face with an expression that
haunts him to this day. A very brief
struggle in his breast ended by his throw
ing open the g-te.
Come in, poor fellow" he said. "Tll
take care of you till to-morrow."
The tramp entered. A few words from
the farmer TO his wife explained the matter
to her, and she went to the kitchen to pro-
vide something for the poor waif to eat.
The man went to the pump, washed him
self, brushed off the dust and then went
into the kitchen and sat down to the table.
The meal that he ate may have its parallel
among those of his kind the Seymour
homestead had certainly never witnessed
such consumption of provisions by one
person. While he was eating, little VIM
ME came into the kitchen, and, with the
confidence that is natural TO some children,
went up to him and laid her hand on his
arm. He looked at her kindly.
"What is your name, little oney" he
asked.
"winifred They call me Winnie, for
short"
lie wiped his mouth--and. most unro-
mantle in this connection, but GER
tainlv true, there was q tear in his
eye, which he dashed away with the back
of his hand. OF what could he be think
ingt Perhaps, of his own youtl ful days
OF innocence; perhaps, of words read long
ago, but lately forgotten-"for of such Is
the kingdom of heaven"
would you kiss me, Winnie?"
She looked up into his fierce, bearded
face, and found a very tender expression in
his eyes, and she kissed him without hest
tation.
The mothers heart was also softened by
this little episode; so, when the man had
finished his meal, she said TO him:
Il will make you up bed on the floor,
in the room above this"
you are very kind, ma'am," he replied,
~but, really, don't think could sleep in
a made-up bed. So many years as I've
slept in hammock at sea, and on the
ground under the trees in foreign lands,
and in the fence-corners and in hay-lofts
in my own country, Lave just about untitled
me for sleeping like Christian, in n clean
bed. Your husband can show me the way
to the barn, and I'll warrant that get n
nights rest there"
Mrs. Seymour Left him sitting there when
she had removed tho dishes and gone
into the sitting room. The servant girl